


Forced Introspection

by glassglassglassmadeofclass



Series: gg rp fics [6]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Self Loathing Ahead, anyways i had to rewrite the entirety of this last night in 2 hours, because this was inspired by those scenes where its just shinji yelling in his brain, brief mention of body negativity but it's like. a single line and it's directed at herself, can you tell i watched evangelion. can you tell, idk what the other her is. it might be her consciousness or it might be a past her idk. you tell me, most of this takes place in the character's mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassglassglassmadeofclass/pseuds/glassglassglassmadeofclass
Summary: Based on roleplays from the game Gem Galaxies on Roblox but most of this fic literally takes place in my character's mind/gem so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯also, go support gem galaxies on roblox. this is not a request. this is a Demandwelcome to: armada yells at herself the movie
Series: gg rp fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750852
Kudos: 4





	Forced Introspection

**Author's Note:**

> Based on roleplays from the game Gem Galaxies on Roblox but most of this fic literally takes place in my character's mind/gem so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> also, go support gem galaxies on roblox. this is not a request. this is a Demand 
> 
> welcome to: armada yells at herself the movie

When a gem is poofed, it's supposed to almost be like a dream. A little pocket dimension, almost, for yourself and yourself only. There, you can heal, rest, choose a new outfit for yourself, and re-emerge when you're ready. 

When Armada opened her eyes, that's not what she was met with.

Instead, she found herself laying on her side, met with a view of seats, and windows, and a sky just outside that looked blurred, moving as fast as whatever she was inside whizzed around. The clouds looked….fake, painted on, smeared as if by the hand of an amateur artist rather than by the delicate forces of any natural water cycle.

The whole thing was bathed in a deep, almost startling vermillion orange, throttling out any other color and casting odd shadows on all within it. It was almost gentle on her eyes, quickly adjusting to the changes in environment from where she'd previously been outside her gem mere moments prior.

It was then that she noticed where her head was positioned-- the warmth of someone's lap, as if having fallen asleep on a friend, gentle hands working their way through her matted hair. It was funny. She usually took great care of it, but it'd gotten scrambled in the fight-- somewhere between stabbing Aven and getting her leg cut clean off by Aven's axe.

She didn't remember reforming, or getting on any sort of transportation with someone.

"...what happened?"

The person whose lap she had her head in stopped their hands, if only briefly, bringing them to rest on her shoulder. Their motions were deliberate, clearly thought out as how to be as comforting towards her as possible. 

"You got into a fight."

The other gem's voice startled her-- being so...perfectly close to her own. Too close, even, for her own comfort. Being a member of a caste that valued as much uniformity as possible without being too suffocating, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence to meet other Ambers with voices close to hers. But there was always something to set them apart. Pitch, tone, the way they spoke their accent, how gravelly their voice was, on and on. But this voice was as if it were a copy, and to say it unsettled her to hear was an understatement. Was this person even an Amber?

"...I know that." After a tense few moments she responded, throat having gone dry. "I don't remember reforming."

Their hands resumed their work on her hair, delicately arching through tangles and pulling them apart painlessly. "You didn't."

Their voice was like honey, sweetened and calm, and yet it still held a hint of something. Something was, very much so, not right here.

"...where am I?"

"You tell me, Mada. I think you know."

"..."

"Can you look at me? I know we can still turn our head."

"..."

"Please look at me, Armada."

But she didn't, a cold wave of tantamount dread welling up from the deepest pit of her stomach and almost paralyzing her, limbs going stiff and icy. 

"What's going on?"

The hands, again, stopped their movements, placing themselves on her cheek and shoulder respectively. "I've wanted to talk to you for a while now."

"Who are you?"

"Armada."

"...no you're not."

"And why's that?"

With a heave, she propped her remaining elbow up on the stranger's leg, forcing herself up to sit beside them. And yet, as if the sight of them would hurt her, she turned her head away, facing down the room. It seemed to be an older transportation ship, ones meant to only travel short distances from planet to planet, or hover close to a planet's surface. She'd read of them once, those archaic things, having gone out of date almost 40,000 years ago as tech advanced. She used to fixate on them when she was under a century old, feverishly researching into how they worked and how the tech was back then, fantasizing about riding in one despite the absurdity of drudging up ships outdated by millennia.

"Because I'm Armada. There's only one me."

"Can you look at me?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

She clenched her fist tightly, forcing herself to stare out the window. The surface of the planet was so barren. It looked icy, the soft sheets of snow twinkling like starlights under the odd, invisible "sun". It was almost a contrast to the bright orange that suffocated everything. Hot colors always did that to cool things.

"Where am I."

She could hear the stranger cross her arms, fabric shuffling. It sounded almost like the elastic material that made up her old uniform, tight and shiny and smooth like that.

"I told you." Their voice grew firmer. She didn't like that. She wanted them to go back to sweet.

"This isn't what the inside of my gem is like."

"Did we always lie to ourselves about everything? Or is that something you picked up?"

"Where. Am I. Tell me. That's an order."

"Oh, look at you. You got a colonel rank and now you think you can say 'that's an order' like anyone actually respects you."

"Why are you being so cold all of a sudden? You were just petting my hair--"

"You did that to me. So I did the same to you."

She faced forward, wringing her hands. The light was so bright. Why did it seem so much brighter now? It was the same as before. Why was it so suffocating? It's existence made everything feel hard to breathe. Where was she? Where was she?

"You know, I've wanted to talk to you for a while."

She didn't respond.

"I need you to look at me."

Silence, still.

"But you don't even like looking in regular mirrors anymore, do you?"

Again.

"We used to really love our reflection. Remember when we almost fell into that pond, because we were too busy staring? What happened to that? We're still the same. Why do you think I'm ugly, Armada?"

Finally, she whipped around, face hot and teeth clenched. Who were they, to think they could do this? Was this a prank? She'd reformed. Or maybe this was a dream. Or maybe it was some Emerald trick, or…

And there before her sat herself, looking how she used to, hair done neatly and eyeliner perfect. Her uniform was exactly as it was, her arm was still there, she still had her left eye. Not a crack to be seen. Blemishless. And yet, it was her. Even reverted, she still found the face scornfully ugly, found every flaw in the rest of the body that she'd pointed out to herself a few days prior after looking into the mirror in her quarters for far too long. She stared back at herself, eyebrows upturned in that motherly, concerned way she loved to do to everyone else, and her eyes held no scorn, unlike her voice a minute ago.

"You're still looking at us like that, aren't you."

Her gaze was unbroken, jaw agape as she stared, something akin to raw horror rising on her face. What was happening. What was happening. What was happening.

"I don't understand."

"You should. You should understand me."

"Where am I?"

"You should be able to tell."

"I can't!"

"Of course. You can never tell anything when it comes to yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Like that's new."

She gripped her head, nearly doubling over. "I don't know what's happening--"

"You're doing it to yourself again."

"What are you talking about??"

With a sigh, the other her relented, leaning back in her seat. Her eyes never left the real her, though, her gaze as drilling as ever.

"I said I wanted to talk to you. Please don't make this a fight, dear. I don't want to fight you."

This time she stayed quiet, burying the rest of her form inside her cloak, curling up on her seat and putting her head in her knees.

The other her sighed.

"Why did you do it?"

"Why did I do what?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, Armada."

"I'm dreaming. This is a dream."

"No, it isn't."

"It is."

"You still think there's only one you, don't you."

With a twitch, she stared up, narrowing her eyes. This bitch.

"There is. There's me. There can't be two of me--"

"There's one physical you."

Her voice cut her off, words sharp and almost filled with venom. "There's the you inside you, and that's the real you. And then there's the past yous, all the ones you try to repress and cringe at the thought of. And then there are the yous that live in the hearts of others. There's a version of Armada in the mind of Aven. There's a version of Armada in the mind of Nala. There's a version in the mind of Matrix, in the mind of Pith, in the mind of Seven. You don't have control over those."

The light had grown dimmer, casting starker shadows on the inside of the room.

"There's one you have control over, though. Which is why we're talking now."

"...and which one is that."

"Why are you so dense?"

She flinched back, to which the other seemed to relent; her shoulders softened, as did her eyes, and she sighed.

"Me. Us. We're out of control."

"Oh, please." The seat creaked under her as she shifted, crossing her...arm. Oh. Damn it. "I'm not letting us be a doormat. What I did out there was what I had to do."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did. What, you just want the whole thing with Aven to blow over?"

"Yes, we do." 

Her words were as quick as Five's knives, enough to make her sit back and blink.

"That's not what I want."

"You think you want her to hurt? We loved her."

"And look what she did to us!"

"That's why we want it to end. Why do you always lie to yourself?"

"I don't!"

"You know you do!"

And for a brief few moments past that, all stood silent. Neither broke their respective stares, one much better built and one barely keeping herself held upright by supporting her weight on one arm.

"I'm the only one who knows you. I know you better than anyone else. I know how you really are. You think Doctor or Amp or Five is encouraging you to do this because they know how you really feel?"

Armada stayed silent, just like last time.

"They're encouraging you to do it because they want you to be happy, because you've told them it'll make you happy, but you're lying to yourself. You're lying to them."

"But--"

"And now look. There are versions of you in the minds of others that are nothing like us. Our friends see us as a monster, Armada. Well, either that, or they see us as pathetic or losing our way. Is this what you want? Do you only want a handful of people liking you? Do you want the rest to leave because you can't control yourself and let what happened to you go and move on?"

"Shut up."

"Nobody's asking you to forgive Aven, damn it. They're asking you to forgive yourself and move on so you don't fucking destroy yourself."

"Why are you doing this to me."

"Because we're goddamn spiraling and you're not trying to stop it or get help at all."

"Stop talking to me like that." She grew cold again. Scared.

"Stop talking to us like this, then. We were so nice. What happened to us? I'm dressed like her, but she's long gone. You look like her, but she's long gone."

"I'm sorry."

"But you're not."

She heaved, putting her head in her hand and curling up in the seat. What was she anymore, if not some vessel for other people to use for their own whims? What was she anymore, if not some creature to look down upon as she fell? 

Why couldn't she stop herself? It felt good. It felt natural. But it didn't. It felt wrong, dirty, disgusting. Why did she hurt Aven? Why did she hurt any of them?

"We want to help us. You know we do. The only person who can really know you is yourself. You know this."

With some effort, she trudged back over to herself, leaning so close their shoulders bumped. She missed herself. She missed herself more than she could really describe. But she was gone, wasn't she?

"You aren't going to listen, are you?"

Her arms opened, and she fell inside her own embrace, pressing her head to her chest. It felt good, being held. She missed it. When she needed to sleep, back when the incident with Aven had happened all those months ago, and nobody was around, she hugged herself, ushering herself into rest. 

"You don't need to answer. I know you won't. We never did, did we? We didn't listen to Aven. And now look at us."

Silence.

"Do you miss her?"

"Ourself?"

"No." Her hands reached back up. Back to the hair, back to detangling. "I meant Aven."

"..."

"You're not ready to answer yet. But I know."

She leaned more of her weight against the other, finding comfort in herself. It was the only form she knew with perfect clarity. She'd lived in it for three hundred and fifteen years, after all. There was some solace in it's familiarity.

"...you made me hate you."

"I didn't. You decided to hate yourself."

Miserably, she mumbled, "But I don't want to. I want to be happy again."

"You decide to hate yourself every time you look at yourself and only see the terrible instead of what we liked."

"How do I stop?"

"You have to figure that out for yourself. I said it before." She began to re-do her buns one-handedly, the other going to rest by her waist. "You're the only one who can perfectly understand you. And wherever you go, you'll be there. You can't leave yourself, as much as you want to. So…"

She stayed quiet, letting her speak.

"Wouldn't it be better to learn to be happy with who you are? I mean...you are stuck with you forever."

"...I don't know. There's nothing to like about me."

"But you know that's a lie."

"I know everyone hates me deep down."

"But you know that's a lie."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You never do."

She finished the buns, tying then back up tightly, with an almost surgical precision. She'd spent years practicing how to get them to look perfect. It still wasn't a lost skill.

"You want to reform, don't you. You left Five alone out there. She was injured, wasn't she?"

Silence, except for the shifting of fabric as Armada curled up into her own cloak.

"...you didn't listen to us at all."

"..."

"But I don't know why I expected us to. Go rest. We'll see us again sometime. Everyone always does."

The light grew brighter, and brighter, until the existence of it felt like it was burning in every pore. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning to herself as if expecting a shield, or protection from it, and yet it only grew, permeating through her eyelids and scorching her sight. And before she knew it, the burning orange was replaced with baby blue hues and cooling purples, an Angelite standing tall over her with a vial of odd liquid in hand.

Five. Where was Five?

She scrambled up to sit, almost entirely ignoring any other presences in the room. She could hear the beep of monitoring machines, hear the groans of other gems rooms away as they were being healed of stars only know what, and yet it didn't clear her mind of the Pearl. She couldn't believe herself, just leaving her like that with a cracked face.

"Why am I in the Medbay-- Five! Where--"

And as she turned to look around the perimeter, she saw it-- Five, facedown on the floor, splayed out, as you do. The absurdity hadn't yet set in, replaced with an apprehensive concern for the time being.

"...why are you on the floor?"

She could think about that odd dream later. For now, she needed to care for Five.


End file.
